My kitchen is jacked...

It’s true.  Witness:

- There are exactly two square feet of work space for food prep,  

- The cupboards are small, inconveniently distant from the stove, their doors removed in a long ago renovation and never replaced,  

- The stove is old, small, the burners on the right side moody and frequently uncooperative,

- There is no range hood or exhaust fan for the stove which is definitely problematic when getting that certain, deep rich brown on these lamb neck bones I am going to braise in da’ag curry,

- The fridge is cluttered mess that becomes a cluttered soggy mess in the summer when its sagging door lets in the warm humid air which condenses, freezes on the ceiling, warms just enough to drip and drip and drip until we have to mop up a pool of condensate,

- We do not have a dishwasher, I am not exactly sure given the current configuration of the kitchen where we would put one,

But we have a great sink; a big old porcelain farm house number with one deep basin that is perfect for soaking greens and vegetables, and a shallower one, set at just the right height for shucking shellfish and after the meal (or during a break in the cooking action) washing the boatload of dishes resultant from my every foray into the kitchen.

It's true.  My kitchen is jacked, it is also a teaching kitchen.  It teaches me every day:

- To properly plan ahead, get my mise squared away no matter how big or small the meal because I just can’t stop cooking, slide everything to the side and quick chop, mince or slice something I forgot to prep, there is NO fucking side to slide things to,

- To not just sit around while things cook, but to police up my work space, to wash the dishes resultant from the most recent cooking step because again I can’t leave a pile of dishes on my 2 square feet of work space because I will have NO work space and for the sake of marital peace and glad tidings I just can’t leave an immense pile of dishes to be washed after we eat.  Agnes has previously and effectively employed this Euro-gypsy death curse thing (soon to be a poem, I am sure) that I am doing my best to not be on the receiving end of,

- To be patient.  I am still working on this.  There are more than a few times when I cannot find a key ingredient in the refrigerator’s cluttered, soggy mess or one of our “cabinets” and want to throw something CRASH into the wall as a statement of my frustration, but then I remind myself, take a deep breath and try one more round of searching before calling Agnes to find the missing ingredient,

- To never underestimate the importance of a good, deep and voluminous sink to any working kitchen.  I can work around all of the other jacked shit, but I do not know what I would do with one of those 2 gallon six inch deep stainless steel piece of crap wash basins they pass off as sinks these days,

Above all, my kitchen has taught me to persevere, to find creative solutions to the lack of space, to be (increasingly) patient with old, jacked appliances and cabinets and to continue cooking the best fucking food I can.

My kitchen is jacked.  Fuck it.  Dinner’s at eight.  Bring wine and a good story.  

I have been cooking all day in my jacked kitchen.  I need both.